


Double Time

by luciusmistress



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Incest, M/M, Mindfuck, Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-26
Updated: 2010-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-08 08:04:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciusmistress/pseuds/luciusmistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some bonds can be forged, but some can never really be broken...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Time

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for madeyemax at prisonerfest on LJ. My eternal gratitude to literaryspell for a lightning fast beta at the last second! You're a lifesaver!

Double Time

We wake up on a cold stone floor in complete darkness. I instinctively reach out for Fred, but my hand finds nothing, so I call out for him. I can't remember how we got here, but I'm sure Fred can tell me. That's the beauty of having a twin. I mean, what are the odds of two people having amnesia at the same time?

There's no answer. I call louder. Still nothing. I'm beginning to panic. Fred has to be here. I can't be alone. Alone in the dark. Fred is always there, within reach. I begin to feel around. Maybe he's asleep. Or injured. Or… No, I won't even think it. I reach a wall and begin to crawl along it. Fred is here somewhere, he has to be.

Suddenly, a sliver of light. It hurts my eyes, but I force myself to look around. There isn't much to see, really. I'm in a small stone chamber, about the size of a Hogwarts broom cabinet. There's nothing in it except for a bucket in the corner. No sign of Fred. I really panic. I can't function alone; I'm only half a person without Fred.

A movement from the doorway grabs my attention. There's a dark figure, clearly pausing for effect between the light and me. It seems large and bulky, but I can't make out any details. I smell dirt, sweat, and blood. The smell connects something in my head. I remember harsh, grabbing hands, a growling voice and pain, searing pain in my head.

An amused voice sounds from behind the threatening shape in the doorway. "If you are quite done with posturing, Fenrir, could you please move so that we can see the prey as well?" Fenrir? As in Fenrir Greyback? The werewolf who bites children for the fun of it? And I'm referred to as 'prey'? This is not good.

****

I wake up in a soft bed. It's still pretty early, because the room is all dark. Thank Merlin it was just a dream! "Georgie," I call. "Georgie, you awake yet?" No answer. I should have known he'd still be asleep, the sloth. But I need to tell him about the dream before I forget it, it felt so real. We were doing Potterwatch with Lee, and suddenly at least a dozen Death Eaters burst in and started to fight us. I saw one hit George on the back of the head, and he went down. I kept fighting until a stray curse blasted my wand out of my hand. It hurt like my hand was shattered into pieces. Funny, I didn't know you could really hurt in dreams. I'll have to ask George if that's ever happened to him.

I reach over to shake my lazy brother awake, but my hand finds nothing. And that's not even the worst part. The worst part is that this is the hand I hurt in my dream and it still hurts. How's that possible? It was just a dream, wasn't it? _Wasn't it?_ I'm beginning to freak out, so I call for George again, louder this time. He always knows exactly what to say to make me feel better after I've had a nightmare, even if I wake him up in the middle of the night.

There's still no answer. Shit! What if… A door opens, casting a sliver of light into the room. It confirms my fear: I'm in an unfamiliar bedroom. There's nothing but the bed I'm lying on and two doors on the opposite wall. But George is lying on a bed next to me, thank Merlin! He keeps staring at me with a frightened expression, and when I reach out to him, he mirrors my movement exactly. Mirrors. Suddenly I notice the frames. It's just a mirror, taking up most of the wall. I see my reflection wince in disappointment before I turn back to the open door. If my dream really wasn't a dream, then whoever opened it probably means me harm.

The light outlines a tall figure in black and plays on his nearly white hair, forming a halo around his head. The effect is spoiled when he steps inside, bringing the light with him. I recognise the pointed face and cold grey eyes immediately. Lucius Malfoy, Dad's arch-enemy, Death Eater and father to that insufferable Draco Malfoy who got us kicked off the Quidditch team the year we left Hogwarts. The man our brother and sister helped put in Azkaban. This is not good.

****

"_Lumos_."

My cell is bathed in light. It stings my eyes, but I try to focus on the figures striding in. Always know your enemy. Behind the werewolf, there are three wizards in black robes. My stomach sinks when I realise that I recognise their faces from the _Daily Prophet_, back when it still printed real news. Antonin Dolohov and the Lestrange brothers. Convicted Death Eaters. Suddenly the U-No-Poo thing doesn't seem quite as hilarious as it did when me and Fred came up with it. What was it Mom said when she saw it? 'You'll be murdered in your beds'? Well, at least there's no bed here. I almost giggle at the thought. I must be getting hysterical.

One of the Lestranges steps closer to me, his wand trained at my face. I step back instinctively, Gryffindor courage be damned. I don't even have my wand, and it's four to one, and I'm so alone that it hurts. My back hits the wall, and there's nowhere to run. Both brothers stand in front of me now, threatening me with their wands and chuckling as my hand gropes for the wand that we all know isn't there.

"Oh, look, ickle wizard misses his wand," one of them mocks me. "He's so cute when he's all fwightened like that."

"Not nearly frightened enough, though," the other one remarks.

"How very true, brother. Shall we give him something to be frightened about?" I know it's sick, but they almost remind me of Fred and me, standing together like that, wearing identical smirks and effortlessly following each other's train of thought. It must be just that I miss Fred so much.

"Excellent idea. _Crucio_!" I try to dodge the curse, but I'm too slow. My entire body explodes into unbearable agony, my bones are melting, and every single nerve is on fire. My legs give out. From somewhere far away I hear someone screaming. I only realise it had to be me when the curse finally lifts and my throat is sore.

"Amusing. But so very impersonal." A new voice cuts through the fog the Cruciatus left in my head. A boot prods my ribs, and I try to tell them not to kick me, but all I manage is a pathetic croak. I must have used up all my voice screaming just now. A Lestrange laughs at me. How can they think this is funny?

"Is he asking us to get more personal, do you think?"

"We can certainly do that." Suddenly my clothes vanish, and I try to scramble up from the cold stone. A foot kicks me back down, and all four men laugh.

"Aww, look at him. Like a big baby."

"All that's missing is him sucking his thumb."

"I'll give him something better to suck than a thumb." Greyback's growl cuts through the Lestranges' mocking. I look up, very much hoping he doesn't mean what I think he means. Unfortunately, he seems to mean exactly that. His large, half-hard cock dangles in front of my face, only inches away.

****

Lucius Malfoy. Voldemort's right-hand man, from what I've heard from Dad. I get up as he steps closer, bringing the light with him. It doesn't come from his wand but radiates off him, like he was a human-sized lamp or something. It's a simple charm, one that I've always thought ridiculously vain and only suitable for teenage girls, but this man really pulls it off. It makes him look angelic and threatening at the same time, like a fallen angel suddenly appearing in front of me.

"Where am I? Where's George?" I demand, trying to sound braver than I feel.

He looks at me, his cold grey eyes boring into my soul. For a second I fervently wish I'd stayed quiet so he would not have noticed me, which is ridiculous because there's nothing else to notice in this room. "I am afraid your brother is... unavailable... at the moment." His voice is smooth and silky, almost melodious. He sounds like I have come to call on someone, not like I'm being kept as a prisoner at some Death Eater lair.   
"As to your first question," he says, sketching an ironic bow, "welcome to my house. I hope you will... _enjoy_ your stay." The slight emphasis makes the polite words sound more like a threat. He's almost like a Victorian vampire, of the type Mom adores: well-bred, stylish, polite and very, very dangerous. The door behind him is still open. Maybe if I could surprise him I might get past him. I have to try, now that I know where I am. There's got to be lots of ways out of Malfoy Manor... Before I can think too much, I spring into action.

He moves almost too fast for me to see. One second he's bowing, the next he's got his wand pointed at me, lips forming the incantation. Ropes wrap around my wrists, pulling me back to the bed and securing me there. A small, cruel smirk spreads on his face. "Running away, are we? Or were you attempting to attack me?" I bite my lip. Fighting didn't even cross my mind. Some Gryffindor I am! I'm sure Harry would have tried something, even with his bare hands, rather than run away. He chuckles at my insecure expression. "Not so brave, after all? Just a frightened little Weasel, hmm?"

I scowl at him. It's not smart to goad him, but I can't help myself. "Brave? Look who's talking! I don't even have a wand and still you need to tie me up to feel secure."

His smirk deepens. "How do you know I haven't tied you up for an entirely different reason?" He looks my body up and down pointedly. "I feel quite secure, I assure you."

I know it's an idle threat, but I can't help blushing. I seem to spend about half my life being as red as a Howler. It's probably genetic; Dad and Ron do that, too. The man raises an eyebrow. "If I didn't know better, I might take that as an invitation."

****

It's not as if I've never sucked cock before, but just the thought of touching Fenrir Greyback almost makes me gag. He's not even human, for Merlin's sake! Well, okay, so that sounds a bit prejudiced. I mean, Remus Lupin is okay, and he's a werewolf, too. But then again, whose fault is that? Exactly.

It doesn't look like I have a choice in the matter. Greyback grabs a handful of my hair and forces me up to my knees. He smells raw and musky, sort of like an animal. It almost makes me retch. I keep my mouth firmly closed against the cock that rubs over my lips. "Open up, whore, before I hurt you," Greyback growls. I shake my head firmly. No way.

He kicks me in the ribs carelessly, making me gasp in pain. Before I have time to clamp my mouth shut again, he forces his cock in. It tastes disgustingly salty and bitter, and I gag. He thrusts deeper. "That's it, filthy little blood traitor brat," he croons. "Take it all and suck it like a good boy."

It's getting harder and harder to breathe. My jaw aches and my throat feels sore. The cock keeps hitting the back of my throat, making me gag over and over and over. Greyback's smell surrounds me like an evil mist. Finally, he grunts and pulls out, and before I catch my breath, he coats my face with warm, sticky come.

Only now I notice the Lestrange brothers standing next to Greyback. They're wanking each other. If that's supposed to shock or disgust me, they've picked the wrong time and wrong target; it only reminds me again of me and Fred and some of our more private experiments. The brothers moan in unison and more come splashes onto my face and chest. I slump down on the floor when Greyback finally releases my hair, feeling intensely humiliated, like I was an actor in a mediocre porn magazine. I try to wipe the stuff off my face but there's nothing to wipe my hands with, so the result is just me having come all over the place.

"What a beautifully debauched picture he makes, bathing himself in your come." Dolohov pushes past the others. "I believe it is my turn next." He casts a malicious smirk at me. "I suppose it would be too much to ask that you were still a virgin at that age?"

A brief memory of Lee flashes through my mind, but I suppress it quickly. That was a world away from this. This is not about sex; this is about violence and humiliation. How those four can get off on this, I don't understand. Dolohov comes closer, cock in hand. It's fully erect, the head purple and glistening with precome. Suddenly, he slaps my face with it, another humiliation. "Get on your hands and knees, whore."

****

Lucius walks toward the bed slowly, like a big cat stalking its prey. I can't even duck when he points his wand at me. I close my eyes, half expecting the Cruciatus, but there's only the sensation of cool air on bare skin. My eyes fly back open, and I see my clothes neatly folding themselves onto the foot of the bed. There doesn't seem to be a single tear, despite my restraints. Neat wandwork. I'd be impressed if I wasn't so scared.

Still smirking, he runs his wandtip lightly over my exposed chest. A strange tingling sensation washes over me. I try to keep perfectly still. This is a dangerous game; that wand is no toy. When the tip wanders lower, I can't help trying to shirk away. I really don't want his wand anywhere near my privates!

He chuckles. "Afraid of me yet? Good."

Ropes appear around my ankles as well, and my feet are pulled up and apart. I'm naked, open, and vulnerable in front of a malicious Death Eater. The worst part is that I feel my cock twitch. Did he cast a lust charm on me, or am I just a lot more perverted that I thought?

"Enjoying your stay already?" His voice is low and close and intimate. Damn, why do I have to keep blushing like a fourteen-year-old girl?

He laughs and brushes his fingertips up the cleft of my arse. When they touch my balls, I twitch involuntarily. But I'm not trying to twist away from his touch, and we both know that. He repeats the movement, and I have to bite my lip to stifle a moan.

"So eager," he breathes. I'm not the only one who's a little out of breath. "Such an eager little slut, all ready for me to use." He's touching my arse, for Merlin's sake! How can his words make my blush deepen like this? I feel my cheeks burning.

"Beg me for it." His voice is so enticing that I almost obey. At the last second, my brains take over from my balls.

"No." My voice isn't quite as firm as I would like it to be, but at least I managed to say it. He turns and walks away. Was it really this easy? I'm mentally prepared for a rape, but all I have to say is no?

He turns back at the door. "You will," he says and walks out without untying me. I'm going to be very uncomfortable before he returns, I realise.

****

I can't. I won't. There has to be something to fight with, even if there's nowhere to run. The bucket! I reach back for it and feel the hard, sharpish rim. Without pausing I bring my hand around. I only have one blow, so I better make it count. But before the bucket makes contact with any part of Dolohov, it's blasted from my hand. I feel more than one spell hit me and throw me back on the floor. The combined effect feels like the opposite of _Petrificus_; every muscle in my body goes slack. And I do mean every muscle. It's a good thing I didn't need to go to the toilet, although that might have stopped them, I suppose. No one could be that sick.

"That's better." Dolohov chuckles and pulls me toward him like I was a human-sized ragdoll. Without preamble, he grips my hips and pulls me onto his cock. My legs twist unnaturally and pain blooms in my ankle, almost overshadowing the burn of the forceful penetration. I feel like an inflatable fucktoy as he moves me back and forth along the length of his cock.

"Like I thought, not a virgin," Dolohov grunts. "Not tight enough."

"I know what helps with that," a Lestrange chirps brightly. "_Crucio_!"

It hurts even more than the first one, probably because I can't control my body at all. My muscles spasm erratically, like I was having a seizure. All thought becomes impossible; there's nothing but a dark void filled with pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Suddenly, no more pain. Just a distant ache all over. A familiar voice, from somewhere far away. "Gentlemen, I must ask you to leave him alone this instant. Otherwise, there will be consequences." Where do I know that silky voice from? I see a brief flash of the Potions classroom at Hogwarts behind my eyelids. Snape. But that makes no sense. What would Snape be doing here? I probably went crazy from the pain.

Cool hands begin to examine me gently. "Lay still," the silky voice whispers to me. I try to tell him that I couldn't move even if I wanted to, but of course my mouth is still just as slack as the rest of my body. The man begins to whisper something in a low voice. Must be healing charms, because my ankle no longer hurts and neither does my arse. I realise I can move again when I'm helped into a sitting position and something cool touches my lips. A glass phial. I swallow obediently, and it feels amazingly good. Even the after-effects of the Cruciatus vanish. I'm swimming in a soft, comforting ocean.

****

When I look back at those early days, I'm embarrassed beyond belief. Such insolence, such _disobedience_. Lucius is good to me, as long as I obey him. And why wouldn't I? It feels so good when he touches me. Sometimes he even sleeps here with me. He's so good to me.

I have these terrible nightmares of men in black robes and pain and blood and violence. I sometimes wake up screaming. At those times, I'm very grateful if Lucius is there, holding me, whispering soothing syllables into my ear. He can make my trembling subside so quickly. I relax against him as he slowly enters me from behind. It's nothing like the dreams I have. It's warm and close and comforting, and I'm very happy he's there.

I worry that these dreams come from George, that they are an echo of what's happening to him. But I can't ask Lucius. I haven't dared since the early days. Sometimes I wonder if George really exists. Maybe I dreamed him. My dreams have always been so vivid… Maybe I dreamed having a family, a twin, a joke shop on Diagon Alley. Maybe I've always been here, with Lucius. At his use.

****

I ache all over. They have been especially rough today, hitting me with whips and bare fists and the unimaginable agony that is the Cruciatus. They took me two at a time and Snape wasn't there to stop them. He can't always make it in time. I don't blame him; he's just one man against the monsters that have me. He's even quit at Hogwarts to take care of me. He's so good to me.

I feel blood dripping from my arse, along with other stuff I don't want to think about. I curl up on the floor of my cell, hoping for Snape to come and heal me soon. Sometimes I wonder what has happened to Fred. Is he perhaps in a cell next to mine, going through the same torture? I hope not. He could never survive this. He's the softer one of us, the dreamer. And here, there are only nightmares.

The only thing that gets me through this is Snape. It's funny, I used to loath him at school, but here and now he's the closest thing to a friend I have. The first time he touched me, I recoiled a bit. I'm still ashamed of that reaction. It's just that touch always reminds me of pain. But Snape doesn't hurt me, at least he doesn't mean to.

****

When Lucius comes in, I blush. I was just thinking about him, and the evidence of that is very noticeable. He laughs, that soft and intimate laugh that is reserved for the bedroom. "I'm not here to fuck you this time," he says, and my blush deepens. "I am here to take you to your brother."

George! That clears my mind immediately. George is really real, of course he is. What will he think of me? Does he know how eagerly I submit to Lucius? Suddenly I feel like I'm betraying everyone. Mum and Dad. George. Harry, if he's still alive. All the Muggle-borns who are being hunted and tortured and killed by Lucius and all the Death Eaters. Angelina… Merlin, why did I have to think of Angelina! I'm definitely not comparing her to Lucius. I'm _not_.

"Make yourself presentable," Lucius commands, nodding toward the bathroom. Yes, I even have a bathroom. He's so good to me… Wait! Stop that! He's nothing but a rapist and torturer and an all-around evil bastard! I rush to the bathroom and proceed to scrub myself raw in the tub, trying to wash Lucius off me.

But he's under my skin. No amount of scrubbing will erase the memories. Like the last time he was here… He doesn't tie me up anymore, except sometimes for fun. Try as I might, I can't forget the feel of his silky hair running through my fingers, his mouth doing amazing things to my cock. "You love me doing this, don't you, filthy little blood traitor?" he'd whisper against my thigh. I would tense up, desperately trying not to come, fighting a lost battle. Just when I would explode, screaming my pleasure, he would pull back and make me come all over myself. "Much better than a stupid Mudblood, hmm?" Even in my fantasy, he can always make me feel guilty.

I give up trying to make my erection go away and just begin to wank. Unbidden, the Lucius-fantasy continues. He would dip his fingers in the rapidly cooling come and smear it all over my face, finally coating my lips with it. I would open my mouth and suck my own come from his fingers. He would laugh at me blushing and then make me get on all fours, my sticky face buried into the pillows, my arse in the air, open and ready for him.   
"Like the greedy little slut that you are," he would say and laugh again.

I would try not to moan as he'd push his fingers into me, again the lost battle. He would keep teasing me until I'd beg for him to fuck me. And then, finally, he would give me what I want. He'd fuck me so hard that I'd bleed afterwards. I hang my head in shame as that thought makes me come hard over my fingers.

When I come out of the bathroom, I try very hard not to look at Lucius. I can't face his knowing look. He laughs at my red face and hands me a robe. I haven't worn clothes since he spelled mine off that first day. Somehow, they make me feel more secure. More like a person and less like a fucktoy.

****

I rejected Snape today. Or yesterday. There's no time when you can't see the sun. All I know is that he hasn't come to me since. I wish he did, just so that I could apologise. I feel so terrible about it. After all he's told me about his horrible youth and how no one sees him as anything more than a disgusting, greasy git, I go and push him away like the insensitive git that I am.

When the door opens, I half expect it to be my torturers. I feel like I might actually deserve it this time. But it's Snape. Thank Merlin, he's going to forgive me! I go to him and kneel at his feet, ready to say anything I can to make it right. Explain that it's hard for me to be touched, and that sometimes I act without thinking.

Before I have time to even begin my apology, he conjures a tin bath full of hot water. He has already forgiven me! Even better, I'm getting a wonderful treat! He's so good to me. "Make yourself presentable," he orders. "I have managed to locate your brother, and you will see him today."

Fred! I nearly sob with gratitude as I rush to thank him. His face is stern, and he pushes me toward the bath instead. "I must warn you, though. You will have an... audience." I stare at him wide-eyed. "It would be better if you did not talk to your brother in that company. There will be some familiar faces there, and someone even worse." He winces and gestures towards the bath again. "Please make it quick. He does not like to be kept waiting."

Something clicks into place in my head. "Do you mean Vol–"

He clamps his hand over my mouth before I can say it. "Do not speak his name," he hisses, sounding exactly like he did in Potions class a million years ago when someone was about to do something dangerous to their potion. I swallow through the lump in my throat and climb into the bath, trying to find comfort in the warm water. I will get to see Fred, but Voldemort will be watching. I'm going to meet You-Know-Who face to face. I know that sort of thing happens to Harry every day, but to me, it feels like a mythic monster had suddenly come knocking on my door. I shiver in spite of the warmth.

****

This is just sick. Instead of talking to my brother, I'm to fuck him. Just to provide entertainment to a dangerous madman. I can't believe Lucius is going along with this. I know I can never stay mad at him for long, but this time I'm determined to try. I scowl at him as he leads me down a posh, dark panelled and red carpeted hallway. "Do stop acting like a sulky teenager, please," he sighs. "This is for your brother's benefit, too. He has been rather badly mistreated, so be gentle with him."

Mistreated? Worse than me? For a moment, I forget to scowl, but then Lucius' last words register. "Of course I'll be gentle with him! Why on earth did you think it necessary to remind me of that?" I imitate Lucius' haughtiest tone. He just smirks and gestures me to silence. We are standing in front of a carved oaken door. Apparently Voldemort waits on the other side. And George.

Lucius' warning has not prepared me to what I see when he opens the door. At the back of the room there's a raised dais with a throne-like chair in the middle and about a dozen smaller chairs grouped around it. All chairs are occupied except for one. Lucius' seat, right next to Voldemort's. To the right of the empty chair sits Snape, who looks up and smiles at Lucius fondly. What the hell is that greasy git doing here? I thought he was supposed to be at Hogwarts, making kids' lives miserable.

I forget all about my former professor when my eyes stray to the open space in front of the dais. A thin, shaking figure stands there alone. It takes me a second to recognise George. He looks as if he hasn't eaten or slept well in ages. When I hurry to embrace him, he flinches. What have they done to him? How have they managed to turn my robust, smiling, happy-go-lucky brother into this painfully thin, timid, hurt creature? He looks broken beyond repair.

I don't need to speak to talk to him; we've always been able to communicate without words. It's not telepathy or even Legilimency, it's just that we're so close that we read each other's faces and bodies like a Ravenclaw reads books. "Are you okay? Can we do this?" I ask him silently. Our connection seems weaker than before, probably because of the separation. His answer comes to me slowly, as if from a distance, but it's firm and emphatic. "Yes. If this is what it takes to see each other, then yes, we can." I sigh with relief. That's the George I know, all right.

Finally, he hugs me back. Then he kisses me, slowly and deeply. I turn us so that our audience has a good view and let my hands wander down George's body. When they come to rest on his arse he shudders. I pull back a little, a question in my eyes. He has never reacted to my touch like that before. He used to be quite willing, taking the lead more than half the time, in fact.

"You know me, George. You know I would never ever hurt you. Don't you?" My eyes plead. With obvious effort, George relaxes back into my embrace. I try very hard not to feel hurt by that. I remind myself that he's been tortured and probably raped, too, judging by his reactions.

Suddenly a high, cold voice interrupts us. "Enough with the foreplay. Let's see how well my servants have trained you." I glare briefly at Lucius. Trained? How dare you? He barely notices me. He sits close to Snape and whispers something to him. An unexpected bolt of jealousy shoots through me, red-hot and searing. "Fuck him. Now," the voice continues, reminding me of the mortal danger we're in.

Fuck him? Dry? No way in hell am I going to do that to my brother who's afraid of a hug. I wet my lips nervously. "My Lord," I start tentatively. If ever there was a right time to be polite, it's now. "Could I at least have some lubricant?"

"No!" he almost shrieks. "You insolent blood traitor, how dare you address me?"

I bow my head, hoping I haven't just condemned us both to a horrible death. Well, there's one thing I have learned from Lucius that will make this easier on George...

****

Fred presses me down to the floor very, very gently. He's treating me like I was made of glass and about to shatter any minute, bless him. Only now that I have a point of comparison do I realise that I must look half starved. The hunger went away after a while, and I haven't even noticed how much weight I've lost. Oh, well, at least he's not angry with me for trying to shrink away from him.

He's so worried about hurting me. I try to communicate to him that I've had so much worse that this will be very nice in comparison. I take off my robe and get on my hands and knees. I start a little when I feel a warm breath on my arse cheek. Well, yes, that's one way to lubricate me, at least a little.

I try to relax as Fred spreads me open. This is going to be very nice, I remind myself. For a second my eyes stray to Snape. He's sitting close to Lucius Malfoy; they're holding hands and whispering to each other. Before I can wonder what to make of that, Fred sweeps his tongue down my crack, distracting me. Merlin, it feels good! I can't help making little sounds of pleasure as he begins to tongue small circles around my arsehole, occasionally slipping it inside just a little.

Where has he perfected his technique? Fred was always a little clumsy and insecure in bed. I'd always thought it had something to do with his constant blushing. I writhe, trying to invite him further in. Finally, he relents and shoves his tongue into me. I push back when he tongue-fucks me, and the pleasure seems to dissolve some of the nightmare my life has turned into. My cock even comes to life, hardening against my stomach.  
Fred replaces his tongue with a finger and I can no longer hold back a moan. Encouraged by it, he adds another. "Just fuck me already!" I scream inside my head. Blessed twin telepathy! Fred pulls his fingers out and nudges my pucker with his cock. I arch toward him, trying to show it's okay. More than okay.

****

We sit curled up together, George and I, the way we always do when we get to be together. George is a lot better, has been ever since the Death Eaters left. He doesn't flinch away from touch anymore, not even when Lucius and Severus take him together. His presence feels comforting again, not the way I think it used to, but comforting all the same. Like a memory of some deeper connection, something like what I have with Lucius, perhaps.

Lucius sits in the chair by the fire with Severus on his lap. Severus is twisting his silver hair around his fingers, looking as unreadable as ever. "We need a favour from you," Lucius speaks up suddenly, his voice grave. I instantly pay attention. "We need you to tell everyone what we have done for you, how we stayed away from the fighting to take care of you..."

"In short," Severus interrupts, his voice as surly as ever, "we need you to keep us out of Azkaban." George lifts his head from my lap, as attuned to Severus' voice as I am to Lucius'.

"So, here's what you are going to say..."

****

Everyone seems to be at the trial. Harry is there, sitting between Ron and Ginny. Lee, trying to look like he isn't holding hands with Angelina. We don't mind; they look very good together. Tonks, her hair grey and skin sallow with grief, shushing a blue-haired baby. Remus is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Percy. Dad sits alone, his face drawn with pain. I quickly look away. On top of everything he's already lost, he's losing two more sons today.

I barely listen to Fred's testimony. I already know it by heart, like he knows mine. We've been rehearsing this for weeks, or so it seems. No, he's not a Death Eater, neither of them are. We have been hiding together, hoping to stay alive until Harry saves the day. Yes, they have been with us all the time. Where? In some caves on some faraway Scottish hills. Yes, we are absolutely sure neither of these men has had any contact with Voldemort during the entire time. No, they deserted when it became apparent that he was a madman.

The Wizengamot has no choice but to believe us in the end. Our family doesn't. Dad has hidden his face in his hands, and his shoulders are shaking. Ginny scowls at us, clearly wishing she could hex us into oblivion. Ron is struggling against Harry and Hermione to get at us to bash our heads in. They all think we're cowards to betray them like this. Maybe we are.

I try to catch Fred's eye, but he keeps looking at Lucius, his face blank and unreadable even to me. I turn to Snape instead, and a strange mixture of hatred, gratitude, and lust surges through me. Suddenly, all I really want is to be alone with him. But first I have to get us all through this. I know I can do it, even though I know somewhere deep inside that he didn't save me from any pain. He caused it.

Finally the trial is over, and the four of us can go back home.


End file.
